


Adopted Vessel

by practicalglitch



Category: Hollow Knight (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Gen, Hollow Knight Does Its Job, Hornet's A Minor Character, No Hallownest Infection, Slice of Life, will update tags as I go
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2020-07-06
Packaged: 2020-10-18 21:24:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20645891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/practicalglitch/pseuds/practicalglitch
Summary: (World plot inspired by the Grimm Troupe!Ghost series)The Hollow Knight had done its job.The Radiance is forever sealed away; Hallownest still in its prime. However, those pesky Vessels kept trying to climb out of their hole from whence they came.The Pale King saw cheap, slave labour for all of Hallownest, and so they were.Enter Quirrel, a young, new scholar under the tutelage of Monomon. With so much work, he decides to buy a Vessel, Ghost, to help alleviate the workload. After all, they are just mindless beings, right?A Slice of Life story about emotions, changing who you are as a person, and learning to smile sometimes.





	1. Adoption

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [And when we come back we'll be dressed in black/And you'll scream our names aloud](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18538105) by [The_Evil_Twin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Evil_Twin/pseuds/The_Evil_Twin). 

> notes: hey, its me, practicalglitch, the same guy who wrote Broken Mask And Mind, or BMAM.
> 
> I wrote this fic just to do something new, fluff, even though im not as good at it as torturing ghost.
> 
> dont worry, this fic has a planned out story, at least somewhat, and im not abandoning BMAM.
> 
> also, for reference, i am just assuming monomon is just like a foot taller than quirrel (assuming human heights dumb) because being really big is kinda a hindrance to her being outside archives

Quirrel walked down the streets of the City of Tears.

It was Wyrmday - one of the two days off everyone had; the other being Rootday. That's why he wasn't at work. For two of the seven days, he was to not work. Of course, that usually would not stop Quirrel from working, as he was a workaholic, but Monomon kept kicking him out of the Archives on the weekends, saying it was "For your own good, you work way too much" or something like that.

The rain pulled him out of his thoughts.

Where was he...? Oh, right, the City of Tears, currently trying to get a nice meal and to get away from this damned rain.

God, he hated the City of Tears. The rain, the people, the rain, the gloominess... Every single day was a reminder that he should've stayed with his parents or move to a small town like Dirtmouth, but _noooo_, the City of Tears was for the _cool_ people, and the rural areas were for the poor farming peasants.

Okay, calm down Quirrel, don't get yourself worked up too much...

What to think about now?

_I guess thinking about work will do,_ Quirrel thinks to himself.

His new promotion to Teacher's Assistant... it was odd. His workload felt like it quadrupled, but Quirrel really didn't care. He was a workaholic, so much so it put the word workaholic to shame. It also made the two closer together, but it was mostly in a professional setting. Working in the Archives was not just his job, his title, or what he did, it _was_ him. He enjoyed the work, and welcomed to extra workload with open arms.

He was a bit miffed by the fact that Monomon had found out about him secretly working on weekends a while ago, sleeping in the Archives so that security doesn't see him entering and stop him because he, _specifically_, was not allowed to work on weekends. She began to always ask employees working overtime on weekends if anyone had seen him, and to personally grab Quirrel and kick him out of the Archives if so.

Which was to say, he was kicked out of the Archives by Monomon every week. Sometimes he would last until nearly the end of Rootday, but never managed to go completely undetected. One of his friends even jokingly began to call him "Monomon's personal kickball".

He walked into a back alley and into a humble fast-food restaurant. It was a fairly unknown place; known by few, but the ones that did know about it usually loved it more than their spouses. The place had extremely unique architecture; the whole place giving this feeling that you've just walked into a completely different universe. Given that it was lunch time on a Wyrmday, it was unsurprising that most of the tables were full.

It served a food that you could get from nowhere else- _hamburger._ No one knows where 'hamburger' came from, just that this was the only place in _all_ of Hallownest that served this unfamiliar and foreign food. That being, the 'Burger Emporium'.

Walking up to the counter, the owner of the place, Brodie, greeted Quirrel.

"Ah, Quirrel! Welcome back! What would you like to order today?"

"Ah, just my regular, a cheeseburger and fries." Quirrel absent-mindedly responded as he mulled over the menu of which he has already read a hundred times over.

"Eating here or getting it wet?"

Quirrel snickered. "Eating here."

"Will do. That'll be five geo."

Quirrel gave him the five geo piece. For a meal it was definitely more on the pricey side, but most people didn't seem to mind due to how _good_ hamburgers were.

Brodie was... odd, to say the least. On the surface, sure, he was a happy-go-lucky guy who just preferred not showing a piece of his carapace, however if you ask about basically anything that isn't obvious, like his past or species, he just dodges it. He was a mysterious guy, who seemingly just appeared out of nowhere one day and set up Burger Emporium single handedly, and has been the only guy working there since.

He was a slim guy, who wore a mask similar to that of Quirrel's. He wore a green helmet, a grey hoodie, gloves, beige pants, and black shoes. In fact, Quirrel has never seen even a piece of what's under all that clothing. Seemingly, he was also the only guy who worked at Burger Emporium.

"Order 66, Quirrel!"

Quirrel was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard his name called out. Walking to the counter, he took his lunch and sat down on a nearby table for two.

He took a bite of the burger. As expected, and much to Quirrel's delight, it tasted amazing. Sure, it was just a plain cheeseburger. Ketchup, cheese, meat and bread. But Quirrel was a simple man, with simple tastes, and he wasn't one for overly complex tastes. Honestly, Monomon would probably be the opposite. If he had to guess, she would just add all the toppings available on a dime. As he munched on his burger, he began to fall back into his thoughts.

Being a workaholic, Quirrel started to think on how he could optimize his work. One of the things he couldn't help but notice is just how much time he spent going to get and find an archive vial or stone tablet to work.

In fact, he probably spent more time finding those items than actually working or documenting.

If he had an assistant...? No, that would be too much responsibility, especially as he was already _"Order 71,"_ Monomon's assistant. Plus, all his assistant would really be doing would be fetching stuff. How could that even be classified as an assistant? You don't learn anything, you-

Quirrel was pulled out of his thoughts as he heard the noise of a chair being pulled back. Looking up-

"Madame!?" Quirrel exclaimed in a hushed tone, as his burger fell out of his hands and onto the table.

"Hello, Quirrel!" Monomon cheerily replied back. Sitting down at the table with Quirrel, she began to examine the burger in her hands.

Quirrel quickly noticed it literally had _all_ the toppings that were available. _I jinxed it, didn't I?_ Quirrel quietly quips to himself.

Snapping back to reality, Quirrel realized how awkward the silence must've been.

Trying to break the silence, he began. "So-" He was going to start talking about work before he realized the bewildered look on her face.

"...how do you eat this thing?"

Oh. Monomon had never actually been here before. "Uh... you just bite into it. Like this." Quirrel picked up the burger he had dropped on the table, and took a bite out of it.

"Hmm. I see." Replicating Quirrel's action, she put it in her mouth under her mask, and took a small bite out of it.

Her face turned to one of surprise. "Oh- wow. This food is better than I was expecting."

"Yeah. Certainly a tad pricey, but worth it."

This time, she took a much bigger bite. In fact, that single bite seemed to be as big as the seven or so Quirrel took out of his burger.

"Uh, Madame? I don't think you're supposed to take such a big bite."

"Agg fugh doh ger! fis fuf fhood!" A look of amazement was on her face. At this point, Quirrel just sighed and decided to back off. He had no idea what Monomon had just said, and had no intention of deciphering it.

Halfway through his burger, Quirrel looked up to see Monomon's hands empty. He gulped down the food in his mouth.

"Madame, did you finish your burger?"  
A look of what seemed to be horror drew upon his face, that can only be achieved by seeing a your boss and also Head of the Archive to straight up just wolf down a hamburger in a public place.

"Maybe," Monomon smugly replied, looking at his half eaten one. "Oh yes! I was going to ask you before I ate!"

"Hmm?"

"Before I sat down with you, you seemed kind of out of it."

"To be fair, I'm always out of it."

Monomon sighed. "That's the problem. From what I've seen of you, you're always out of it. What in the world is going on in that head of yours?"

Quirrel thought back for a moment.

Oh yeah, the whole assistant thing. Technically talking about that isn't lying, even thought that's usually not what Quirrel's thinking. He's usually thinking about work itself, co-workers, or how much he dAMED HATED THE CITY OF T-

"...I was just thinking on how inefficient I am at work, because we keep on spending more time trying to find the information than actually working."

Monomon looked downwards for a second. She breathed in, then out.

"Sometimes, Quirrel, I feel like you have no life outside your work."

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Quirrel, I know you're dedicated to your work, and I'm pretty sure I would have never seen myself saying this to someone, but you're _too_ dedicated to work."

"Eh. I find myself enjoying work, and not enjoying not-work. So I'd rather be working. Nothing wrong with that."

"...do you even really have _friends_, Quirrel?" Monomon bluntly asks.

"No."

"Fine. Then, as Teacher of the Archives, I will befriend you."

Quirrel accidentally spat out some of his burger, before definitely _not_ shoving it back in his mouth and swallowing. "S- sorry, what? Madame, I have not even been your assistant for _two_ weeks, and you are proclaiming that you are going to be my friend?"

"Yes." Monomon bluntly replies, determination in her eyes.

"O... kay." Quirrel replies unsurely. "Well, back to what we were talking about, how do we fix the issue of spending too much time trying to find information than working?" Quirrel hurriedly and shamelessly changes the subject.

"Hmm. You know the vessel project we worked on?"

"...yes? Wasn't that top secret?"

"Well, not anymore. The failures have been chosen as slave labour, because they don't really have any emotion, and were designed to follow orders."

"...true. You think we can just hire vessels to grab information for us?"

"While it would be inexpensive, I don't know if it'll work. It would require quite a large amount of training, so I don't think we could implement it where we just buy vessels and tell them to do stuff. Plus, we are a public organization with unions, and I don't think they'd be too thrilled if some of their jobs were lost to Vessels."

"You think, maybe, if I bought a vessel and taught it how to do it, it'd be fine?"

"Maybe, but any damages to Archive property is on you."

Quirrel pondered this thought.

////////////////////////////////////////////////

Quirrel walked down the streets of the City of Tears.

God, he hated the City of Tears. The rain, the people, the rain, the gloominess... Every single day was a reminder that he should've stayed with his parents or move to a small town like Dirtmouth, but _noooo_, the City of Tears was for the _cool_ people, and the rural areas were for the poor farming peasants.

Okay, calm down Quirrel, don't get yourself worked up too much...

Huh. That's weird. He just had a feeling of déja-vu. It was probably nothing.

Looking up, he saw a sign that caught his attention.

_Vessel Slave Market_

Oh. So that's what Monomon was exactly talking about back in Burger Emporium.

Hmm.. Thinking back to what he had said, maybe he could buy a Vessel and get it to grab tubes for him?

Walking inside the store, he noticed that it felt like a pet shop, except all of the pets are the same animal.

Row after row of cages with Vessels inside of them, all of them still like a stone. It was somewhat uncanny, really. He decided to walk up to the counter with an employee manning it.

"Ah, hello there! Welcome to the Vessel Slave Market. Not a good name, but it gets the idea cross pretty quickly."

The employee chuckles to himself.

"So, you looking for a Vessel to buy?"

"Uh, yeah. How much does it cost for one Vessel?"

"Ah... 1000 Geo. Tad pricey, I know."

"Oh, no, that's okay. Am I allowed to just choose any of these Vessels?"

"Oh yes, just choose any."

Okay. No problem. Walking down corridor after corridor, Quirrel observed the Vessels. Again, it was uncanny; all of them dead silent and still as a rock, row after row of them, with no distinction save for their horns.

None really caught his attention.

He sighed to himself. Walking back to the direction outside, taking another corridor, he decided that maybe he'll just come another day-

He stopped and looked to his right.

Right there, on the shelf, was a Vessel.

For some reason, this Vessel caught his eye. Why, he had no idea.

It had two horns, perfectly symmetrical, that curved outwards than back inwards, and at the top the horns split into two rounded prongs.

He narrows his eyes; trying to find out why exactly this Vessel caught his eye. He was not looking at them, they were not acting any different than their fellow Vessels, and nothing seemed off about how they looked. Yet there was just this... feeling about this particular Vessel. It was a gut feeling, and despite how he wanted to be rational about this...

_Screw it. I'll buy this one._ Quirrel decided.

He picked up the cage with the Vessel inside, and brought it to the counter.

"Hey, can I buy this Vessel?"

"Sure. Just write a cheque for 1000 Geo. It's easier that way."

Pulling a silk blank cheque from under the table, he hands it to Quirrel, who fills it out.

"Well, I should get going now. Thank you."

"Thank you too."

Walking back onto the rain, he figured out which way was home, and began walking down the streets, the water dampening his already damp head cloth.

_You know what,_ Quirrel wonders. _This is probably gonna be those stupid chiché things where this one stupid Vessel is going to change my stupid life or something insane that no-one will expect will happen or something. Just watch._ Quirrel lets out a sigh.

Quirrel did know what a 'jinx' was, but he certainly didn't know to not to jinx it.


	2. Welcome Home

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> while my other fic spirals downwards and downwards, how about we enjoy a nice cup of tea with our good frien quirrel

Quirrel stepped into the elevator in his apartment complex. Grabbing the handle and pushing and holding it forward, Quirrel waited until he had reached the 12th floor.

Picking up the cage, he walked over to his apartment number, 128, and walked inside.

It was a modestly sized room; a kitchen, couch, and a small square table with four chairs. There was only one other door other than the front door, and that was to his bedroom. Setting down the cage, he grabbed the nearby towel and dried himself out quickly, before setting it back and picking up the cage once more.He placed the cage on the couch, and opened it. Pulling the Vessel out of the cage, he set them in his lap.

...how should he even approach the Vessel? From what he knew, most just had a no-nonsense, angry and hard approach.

...Quirrel was not a bug who could handle treating someone like that. He decided to go for a soft approach. Not that these vessels were even capable of feeling emotions, anyway. It just felt... _right._

"Uh... Hey there! I'm Quirrel!"

Picking them up by the armpits, he turned them around to face away from him.

"...And here's my apartment. It'll also be your house so to speak as well, I guess."

The vessel turned to him, and pointed to their former cage, tilting their head.

"Huh? No, of course not that's your house! It's way to small. To live in one would practically be torture to me... I see no reason to do that to you either."

Quirrel turned them around to get a good look at them. The pitch black eyes, the horns, the hard mask, the cloak...

It was a bit weird. When he had worked on the top-secret Vessel project, he had never actually seen one. Diagrams, drawing, first-hand accounts of ones, sure, but he had never seen one himself.

Quirrel sighed. "...I look really dumb right now... speaking to a thing that can't feel. Well, whatever. My name is Quirrel, and I guess I'm your owner. You'll be helping me at work, I guess...?"

Looking over at the time, Quirrel realized just how late it was. He also realized just how tired he was.

Quirrel yawned. "Welp, I guess I'm going to sleep... I'll show you around the archives tommorow or something..." He waved his hand dismissively.

_I feel like I'm missing something,_ Quirrel thought to himself as he closed the door to his room behind him.

"Eh. If I forgot about it, it probably doesn't matter."

Quirrel pulled back the bedsheets, hopped inside, and went to sleep.

///////////////////////////////////////////////////

_I walk though the streets of the City of Tears._

_...something feels off about this place._

_Not the scenery, no. Neither the dead guards around the place, or anything about the place itself-_

_It's my mind. Something is tugging at the back of my mind. I can't figure it out. What is it about this damned city?!_

_I sigh. Calm down. I'm supposed to be cheery and happy; not angry and confused. I should be taking things as they go._

_I tilt the mask on my head. Despite the fact I have had this mask for as long as I can remember, something feels wrong about it. Like it isn't mine. It was just some stupid mask, and he couldn't get his mind off it._

_I pulled it off my head and examined it. It gave me that familiar feeling that so much of Hallownest gave me. A damned headache, more questions than answers, and a feeling a déja-vu he shouldn't be having; like being able light as many lightbulbs as you want but still not being able to see through the fog; never being able to actually put a finger on it._

_I wanted to leave the thing by the wayside so many times. It was heavy and a burden; a liability. It serves no purpose to me._

_Yet I cant. I can never bring myself to abandon this thing. It was like every time I tried to throw it away some far part of my damn mind tells me, no, don't do that, you need that, it's important... To hell with that, and yet I still end up listening to it._

_Climbing an old, worn down tower, I stop at a nice resting point. An iron bench, a floor-to-ceiling window, and a front seat view of the city beyond._

_Sitting down on it, I gaze out at the view beyond._

_It's beautiful, to be honest. A sight you never see; an empty city, crying out for eternity._

_I love it, yet some part of my mind tells me I hate it._

_ _tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap, tip-tap_ _

_Looking behind me, I see the small explorer behind me. A fine friend, that one is. Quiet, but can express themselves just fine._

_They sit on the bench right next to them, and look at me expectingly._

_I smile. I have no qualms against expressing my thoughts. It helps calm me down, anyway._

_"The capital lies before us my friend. What a sombre place it seems and one that holds the answers to many a mystery._

_I too have felt the pull of this place, though now I sit before it I find myself hesitant to descend._

_Is it fear I wonder, or something else that holds me back?" I look back, and smile at the bug once more._

__How cute,_ I wonder. I pat him on their crown, and the lean into the touch._

_...wait, don't I own this vessel?_

_This is a dream, isn't it?_

_Quirrel pulls his hand away in horror, and watches the world around him crumble._

__What's going on? I don't like this! I just wanted to have a nice dream! I don't like this! __

_The Vessel disintegrates in front of him._

_Quirrel shuts his eyes and covers his ears, scared to death._no, no no... What's happening?! please, stop...

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////

"AGUH!" Quirrel jolts awake from bed, clutching the bedsheets.

_Okay... Okay... It's just a dream..._

Looking around, he notices it's just his plain, normal room.

...As plain and normal as can be for a bug like Quirrel.

It was a pretty small room, with a bed and table with a simple stool. The room is filled with borrowed stone tablets and Archive vials, neatly yet messily strewn about the room.

He checks the time. A bit late, but it really didn't matter. After all, it was now Paleday, and that meant he doesn't have any work today. He gets out of bed and sets the bedsheets, then opens the door.

A bit groggy, he looks down...

to be met with two pitch black eyes.

"AUGH!" Quirrel stumbles back a step, before calming himself down. If he wasn't awake before, he definitely is now.

He looks at the Vessel before him.

Oh _yeah_. The Vessel he bought. He regains his posture and looks down at the vessel, looking at him expectingly.

"...Have you been standing there the entire night?"

A simple nod from the vessel.

He sighed. "Dear Wyrm, you scared me like a ghost..."

The Vessel pointed at themselves and tilted their head.

"Hmm? No, you're not a ghost, you're a Vessel."

The Vessel decided to drop the subject, seemingly, as they walked away and sat at the nearby table.

_Wait, why were they just standing outside my door?_

_...did I forget to give them a place to sleep?_

_I did, didn't I. Of course I did._ Quirrel thinks to himself.

Well, no reason to get caught up in it. He remembers that he was planning to bring the Vessel as an <strike>excuse to get into the archives</strike> assistant-in-training, and teach them the ropes on how to sort through and grab vials and all that.

Quirrel goes to make a sandwich at the kitchen, at the same while toasting some bread over a gas stove and pulling out peanut butter from under the counter.

Sparing a glance at the table with the Vessel sitting there, he wonders if he needs to feed them.

Does he?

...I mean, probably. Or else, how would they even run? On void?

...Then again, they don't even seem to need sleep. Maybe they do just run on void.

...Quirrel has just realized that he has zero idea on how to care for the Vessel he adop- bought.

He shook his head. _I really shouldn't get attached..._

_I mean, shouldn't I know this?_ Quirrel ponders, before realizing he shouldn't. When he worked with the Vessels, he just checked if it was plausible and the not-feeling part. Not the anatomy or design of the Vessels. He had no knowledge of how the Vessels even lived, or anything about void for that matter.

Well, uh, best approach is just to straight up ask, right?

"...Hey, Vessel?"

The Vessel turned their head towards him.

"Do you need to eat?"

The Vessel seems to ponder the question, before shaking their head no.

"Well, okay then..." Quirrel slathers peanut butter on the now toasted toast and turns off the gas stove.

Did he just call the Vessel, Vessel?

No, Vessel won't do. They should probably get a name. Everyone deserves a name.

"...Hey, Vessel?"

The Vessel, again, turns around and looks at Quirrel.

"Would you want a name?"

The Vessel, again seems to ponder the question, before nodding. They then proceed to point towards the floor in front of the door to Quirrel's bedroom.

...Are they talking about when they asked if they were a ghost?

"...Are you saying you want to be called Ghost?"

The Vessel nods.

"Well, Ghost it is then. I like it. It has a nice ring to it."

Ghost nods again.

Quirrel gets back to finishing his sandwich, and reflects on the conversation he just had with the Vessel- No, Ghost.

_Don't get attached, okay... It's just an unfeeling entity... Don't get too attached, it's just an unfeeling thing. There's no way for it to feel, and therefore there's no reason to get attached. It'll only make me sadder._

Quirrel did know what a 'jinx' was, but he certainly didn't know to not to jinx it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i seem to be on a trend towards shorter chapters, from a general idea of about 2500 words to 1500-2000. dunno if its good or bad. you tell me if you wanna i guess
> 
> im also gonna start leaving dates of when the fic is published. as far as i know, it only says when it has been updated last and when it was first published so here.
> 
> 29/09/19


	3. Archives Visit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im going to start updating my profile if i am alive and how close chapters are to release, plus how many words are in my unpublished works
> 
> also imma just sidestep the question of why was i missing for a month

_Welp, it's Rootday, _ Quirrel pondered as he ate his sandwich. _What's a scholar to do on Rootday?_

Unsurprisingly, the first thing that came up was sneaking into the Archives. Sadly, such a way to spend a Rootday was seemingly frowned upon by Monomon, who had increased security specifically to keep _him_ out. Pretty stupid, if you ask him, but you know, it's Monomon he's talking about.

Looking up, he saw Ghost across the table. From his view, the Vessel had seemingly tucked their legs under their cloak.

_...They look like an egg._

_"Phhff!"_ Quirrel suppressed a laugh. He didn't really understand why it was funny, it was just really weird.

Ghost tilted their head towards Quirrel, which he promptly noticed.

"Sorry, it's just..." Quirrel lauged. "You look like an egg."

He put his face into his hand, and after a while, his laughter died down.

"Again, sorry... I, heh, really shouldn't find that funny."

Either way, it seemed Ghost did not really care, or react.

Well, yeah. Of course; it's a vessel.

Eating the last bite of his sandwich, he again reflected on what he should do today.

_Hey, I could try to sneak into the Archives to show the vessel around..._

_Or... better yet, use my vessel as an excuse to enter the Archives!_

Quirrel smiled mischievously.

Indeed, a perfect idea.

"Hey ve- Ghost, would you want me to show you around the Archives? You'll be helping there, so I think it'd be nice to teach you how to do things."

The vessel looked at him for a second, before nodding in agreement.

Half an hour later, and the two found themselves at Queen Station.

Pushing across all the other commuters, Quirrel held Ghost's hand as he led them towards the Archives.

Eventually, the two of them left the crowds as they walked towards the Archives. The ten minute trek there from Queen's Station was almost always quiet and empty, but never felt lonely.

_Even less so when you have a silent <strike>friend</strike> Vessel tagging along..._ Quirrel thought.

Looking down at the Vessel, Quirrel realised he was still holding hands with the Vessel.

Which is odd. He's not supposed to get attached to his Vessel; quite the opposite. Not that the Vessel can even have emotions.

So, uh, he shouldn't be holding hands with them...?

However, it didn't seem like they wanted to let go, and Quirrel was not a guy you'd ask to press an issue such as this. As you may have guessed, Quirrel was not the biggest extrovert. He basically knew almost nothing about social interactions, jokes, the whole shebang- All he needed in life was a bed and the Archives, to be honest.

It was a bit harder to live how he lived though-- as stated before, Monomon was not exactly fond of Quirrel's insistence on having an 'eight-day workweek' (Her words, not his.) and he was having to face the complete nightmare of having to figure out what to do for the day during weekends, where working was not an option.

_The absolute horror,_ Quirrel silently quipped.

...

...

This is slow.

Quirrel never usually had a moment like this. He couldn't really run to the archives like he always did- as he doesn't think Ghost's stubby legs will be able to carry themselves far.

...so here he was. Nothing to do for like, five minutes.

_The absolute horror,_ Quirrel silently quipped <strike>again.</strike>

_I guess I have no option but to look about my surroundings..._

Looking up, he saw plants and vines growing out of the ceiling.

He frowned. _What an eyesore... It'd look just so much nicer if these giant vines weren't there to ruin the ceiling._

He shook his head. You know, thinking about his surroundings will almost always inevitably end up with him being angry at said surroundings.

Looking up, he saw the Archives come into view. There, Monomon stood outside of the Archives, talking to another, lower Scholar, seemingly on something important.

By the time she dismissed the other Scholar, Quirrel was a few feet away. Monomon turned around to walk away, only to be met with Quirrel and a Vessel.

"Oh! Quirrel! You actually bo-" Monomon, for some reason, froze for a second, confusing Quirrel a bit. Hopefully she wasn't slowly realizing- "You're not supposed to be here, you know that, right?" -that it is, in fact, a weekend.

Shoot.

Quirrel partially panicked, and a panicked man trying to improv is not a good combination.

"A-Ah! Well, you see Madame, I, uh, I got a thing!!!" Quirrel dramatically showed off his Vessel, which was currently just standing there, still. "And! I! I wanted to be- or no, show them around! Nono, not show, _teach_! Sorry- not teach them around, teach them how! To help me..! Doing... Work! Wait, no, sorry- they're not doing work, they're just uh, helping me! Carry stuff! And by stuff I mean stuff like vials or-"

"Stop!"

For a second Quirrel thought Monomon was fed up with his shtick.

Honestly, he would too.

But actually looking at Monomon, not rambling around, he noticed how much Monomon was hysterically laughing. She probably was the entire time he was speaking, he just didn't notice.

"uh," Quirrel was a bit dumbfounded.

After about a whole minute that was slightly awkward on Quirrel's part, Monomon finally stopped laughing at the Scholar's explanation and faced Quirrel, still with an obvious big smile under that mask.

"Quirrel, please, All you had to say is that you were training a Vessel. The comedy is not needed!" Monomon, again, started to laugh for a second.

Honestly, at this point, Quirrel wished he was anywhere but here.

Quirrel started to interject that he was doing comedy (Like he even could.) "Wait that-"

"It's okay, Quirrel. I'll leave an exception, just for today. And today _only._"

Quirrel gave a sigh of relief. As he began to walk into the Archives, Monomon stopped him for a second.

Leaning into his ear, she whispered: "If you don't leave by the afternoon, though, I'll make sure you get an impromptu trip to the ER. And I _promise_ you that I'll do it myself."

Pretending he heard nothing, Quirrel clutched Ghost's hand tightly, whistled a happy tune, and began walking into the Archives. It was a good thing Monomon couldn't see his face.

Monomon did not use the word 'promise' lightly, neither did she loophole her promises. And a certain trip to the ER was not what Quirrel came here for. He had come here to have a _chance_ for a trip to the ER.

Either way, putting what just happened aside because Quirrel did not want to think about it, Quirrel led Ghost down hallways and into the Storage Section. Here, there were rooms after rooms dedicated to storing knowledge; vials piled on vials so high there were ten walkways on each room, each one higher than the other, to access the any vial anyone needed.

This was the heart of the Archives. These vials stored almost every single scrap of history, science, and math anyone could ever hope to have.

Archive students, professors and scholars alike walked about these halls, and it wasn't uncommon to find people on walkways or in little secluded places fast asleep on the floor, vial still in hand.

Not like he was guilty of such an act. Never. He was above such embarrassing acts.

The only issue with the vials were that they were a pain to understand. Sure, information dense and yet not expensive, but he's pretty sure if the apocalypse happens and everyone who knows how to decipher these vials has died or forgotten, the vials might as well be shattered.

The way the vials and the Storage Section were organized was a very odd way that was intuitive to those who've been using it for years, and made it much easier to organize things in such a way that didn't disrupt the placement of everything else. On top of that, it was massively more compact than regular writing. However, this system came with the downside that it was massively hard to learn how to read the vials.

It was called the Huffman-Hilbert Sorting System. Who was Huffman? Who was Hilbert? Quirrel doesn't know, and nobody seems to ever talk about it. 

Finding the correct vial, Quirrel found a secluded corner and sat down. The vessel, obediently, sat down next to him.

"Well, Ve-" Quirrel sighed. He's been making that mistake too much. "_Ghost,_ let me teach you how the Archival System works. This, specifically, is a vial specifically for teaching people about how to read vials."

Quirrel handed the vial over to Ghost, who hesitantly brought out his hands from his egg- _cloak,_ and grabbed the vial.

"Here, bring it up to your face!"

Doing exactly that, Ghost peered into the letters of the vial. They knew how to read words but these words weren't left to right. The words were.....

Well, everywhere.

To say the least, Ghost was confused.  
Something they really haven't felt before.

_Felt?_ no no no- they didn't feel.

They put it down and faced the Scholar.

"You don't understand it, do you?"

Ghost nods.

"Here, I'll teach you. If you don't understand, just poke me, okay?" Quirrel cleared his throat.

"So, you see, when you take the vial to your face, the letters are arranged in such a way. At first, yes, it seems random. However with the usage of specific tools for beginners like yourself, you can know where the next letter will be-"

<>

"-You see, you can always know where the next letter is at all times. You can know this because you know where you aren't. By subtracting where you are looking from where you aren't, or where you aren't from where you are, whichever is greater, you obtain a difference, or deviation. The Guidance Subsystem, a beginner's tool for knowing where to find the next letter, uses deviations to generate the only possible place where the next letter is to bring your vision from a position where it is to a position where it isn't, and arriving at a position where it wasn't, it now is. Consequently, the position where it is, is now the position that it wasn't, and it follows that the position that it was, is now the position that it isn't."

Ghost is currently thoroughly confused. They poke Quirrel, with no response.

"In the event that the position that you are looking is in is not the position that you weren't, the system has acquired a variation, the variation being the difference between where you are looking, and where you aren't. If variation is considered to be a significant factor, it too may be corrected by the GS. However, the missile must also know where it was.  
The Guidance Subsystem scenario works as follows. Because a variation has modified some of the information of where you are looking, it is not sure just where you are looking. However, it is sure where you aren't, within reason, and it knows where you were looking. It now subtracts where you should be looking from where you weren't, or vice-versa, and by differentiating this from the algebraic sum of where you shouldn't be looking, and where you were, it is able to obtain the deviation and its variation, which is called error."

"Well? Did you understand that?"

Ghost quickly shakes their head.

"Don't worry, we have the entire day-"

_"If you don't leave by the afternoon, though, I'll make sure you get an impromptu trip to the ER. And I _promise_ you that I'll do it myself."_

"Most of the day. Most. Actually, just in case, some."

Quirrel chuckled. "Well? Best to make the most of it. Here, I'll walk you through each step. I'm sure you're a quick learner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe people are just so much better than me, but i always feel like my character interactions feel a lot more superficial and undeveloped....
> 
> maybe i should work harder on them? what do you guys think?
> 
> 30/OCT/19


	4. Don't Take Advice From Random Shopkeepers (Or Do, It's Not My Problem)

Well, to say the least, Ghost was, indeed, a fast learner.

By making him write down the decoded messages on easy to write on silk paper, he could keep track on how good he was getting.

The Huffman-Hilbert Sorting System, or Archive Shorthand, was odd in the sense that if you were a bit wrong or a bit bad, you didn't get a completely wrong answer as is usual with decoding. It just looked like someone had made a bunch of spelling errors or forgot to put a letter here or there.

So, as Ghost got better at decoding what they saw, he could visibly see with each practice that less spelling mistakes appeared. They were learning at a pace he thought impossible too- It took Ghost a few short days to reach 92% accuracy- The point where simple logic can fix almost any errors.

This took most people about half a year to reach the dreaded 92% accuracy- And about a year more to reach 99% accuracy.

And here was Ghost, who in literal days achieved something that took most people months. He had expected them to learn quickly; but not _this_ quick. After all, Vessels were very good at menial tasks. Tasks that didn't need creativity nor brains at all; things that were muscle memory though, that was where Vessels tend to shine.

Huh. Despite him working on the Vessel project for years, he still doesn't know much about them.

_CLING! CLING! CLING! CLING!_

The bell cut Quirrel out of his thoughts.

Four clings; fourth bell. First bell is when work started, second was lunch, third was the end of lunch, fourth was the normal end of a day, and fifth was when they closed up shop for overtime workers. It was different for other groups in the Archives, but for the Scholars and for some Professors that was their schedule.

Of course, usually Quirrel would completely ignore the fourth and fifth bell, and stay till after everyone else left. However, again, Monomon had put a lid on that, and demanded Quirrel _absolutely_ must leave at the fourth bell, and non-compliance would apparently mean that she would make the King force a permanent contract that would mean he would have to live in the City of Tears; aka force him into hell for all of eternity.

And between being temporarily shut off from heaven or permanently stuck in hell, he decided, rationally, the first was the correct option.

Funnily enough, at first Monomon seemingly wasn't thinking too hard with her first punishment because it was working overtime. When he had blatantly violated this rule, she quickly realized the issue with said punishment.

It's been a bit hard to adjust to shorter work hours; he generally didn't know what to do during these times and sometimes would just start pacing around his small house for hours on end. Either way-

"Quirrel!"

Quirrel quickly exited his daze from a very familiar voice; one he could recognize from a mile away.

Monomon slammed a tentacle down on Quirrel's desk. "Quirrel, why aren't you gone?!"

"...Eh? The fouth bell just rang!"

"...Quirrel, the bell rang almost twenty minutes ago."

"...oh." Quirrel looked at his clock, agreeing with Monomon. Wow, was he scatterbrained to not notice. "Well, looks like it's time to go, Ghost." He patted the Vessel's back- who was still decoding another practice vial with near perfect accuracy it seems- as they put down their pencil and stood up.

Looking back, he realized Monomon was quietly laughing into one of her tentacles.

"Uh, Madame, are you okay?"

Lowering her tentacle, Quirrel could just feel the shit-eating grin. "You're a softie, I knew it."

"I- I'm a _what?!_"

"You're a damn softie, I _KNEW_ it."

"H- How am I a softie?!"

"You're treating your Vessel like a real bug being. You even named it! I knew you were secretly a softie inside!"

"W- No! I am no softie!"

"Then why'd you name your Vessel? Why do you treat it so nicely?"

"W- I-" Quirrel grumbled, angry because he both vehemently denied and absolutely knew he was a softie inside. "Oh you- Whatever. Let's go, Ghost."

As Quirrel grumbled his way out of the Archives with Ghost in tow, he could hear Monomon laughing.

"Looks like someone is collecting on a hundred geo bet!"

She bet one hundred geo on whether he was a softie?!?! He was not a softie; damn it, he was a workaholic! His entire life and existence is _only_ being a workaholic; nothing more! And that applies to being a softie!

Now grumbling out of the Archives while being offended, he and Ghost made their way to the Queen's Station to get back to his little apartment in the City of Tears.

"Can you believe that?! Monomon calling me a damn softie! I feel like I shouldn't even be angry over this but I just-"

"Oh, why am I even talking about this."

Looking to his left, he stared into the empty eyes of his Vessel.

Oh.

Quirrel stopped walking. Ghost followed suit.

Did he just...?

Yes, he did just talk about personal matters to a VESSEL.

WHY.

Quirrel put his face in his hands. _Maybe Monomon has a point...._

"You know what, I'm just gonna stop talking, because every time I open my mouth I just dig a bigger hole for me. Lets... just go to Queen's station."

As Quirrel continued walking forward towards the famous station, Monomon couldn't help but smile at what had just unfolded. Sure, spying on her assistant is not generally considered good practice, but she couldn't help but wonder how Quirrel treated Ghost in private and....

Well, let's just say Monomon now knew for sure someone was, deep down, a softie.  
________

It wasn't long before Quirrel ended up in a market; having left behind Ghost. If he had brought them, no doubt would they end up losing themselves.

There, he bought fruits, veggies, and meat from the stands and shops that lined the packed and crowded streets.

He couldn't help but grumble.

It was loud. Shopkeepers shouting over eachother, the commotion of the crowd, it was annoying, it was damp and wet and raining, and he just wanted to sit home and work for the rest of his damn life but instead life just won't let him work.

Why does he even have to go to the markets? It's so crowded and he keeps getting pushed around and it moves so slow.

He was wasting his time. Everyone was moving so slow, it took ages to get anywhere. It was just a damn mess.

But that isn't what he's doing right now. as for what he was doing right now, he was at a dilemma on whether he should buy apples or oranges.

The shopkeeper, noticing this bug staring at her stand for about five minutes now, seemingly on a mid-life crisis level of dilemma on whether to buy friggin' apples or oranges, decides to pipe up.

"You shouldn't think to hard about what you'll buy, you know. You'll never be able to enjoy life if you spend it _thinking_ how to enjoy life rather _than_ enjoying life."

The stranger, not looking away, replies. "But shouldn't you take what you enjoy the most? I mean, like now. I'm comparing apples to oranges; trying to figure out which is better."

...

The stranger stops.

"God, that took me a while to realize how stupid what I said was."

"...Yes, yes it was. But not invaluable, no?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, hell, looking at you, I can see you're doing just that. Comparing apples to oranges. You can't; because they aren't the same thing, you know. The same thing applies with everything else.

...You know, the same thing applies to happiness, now that I think about it."

"Hmm?"

"You don't necessarily find happiness; you make it. I think that's why so many people have trouble finding true happiness. You can search high and low, yet you'll never truly _find_ happiness. You make it. You have to set your head to make happiness, rather than finding it."

Quirrel ponders the shopkeepers message.

"...You make a good point. Thanks; I'll keep that in mind."

"No problem! ...Say, who are you?"

"I'm Quirrel; the Teacher's Assistant in the Archives."

"Hmm? The Archives? I've never been there before, although I've heard many things about it. Oh, but where are my manners; I'm Hornet, a warrior, although it may not seem like it... My mother's angry at me, so I decided to go work as a shopkeeper as she...

Calms down. Hopefully."

Quirrel chuckled. "A warrior, huh? You look more like a philosopher to me, considering your character."

"Well, I love philosophy!" The shopkeeper happily exclaimed. "...My mother doesn't really approve, though. But hey, it's fine."

"I see then. Well, I must be on my way. I'll just buy ten apples.

...Actually, now that I think about it, how about ten apples and ten oranges."

Hornet chuckles. "You're telling me you're the Teacher's Assistant, supposedly one of the brightest minds in Hallownest, and it took you a philosophical discussion with a random Shopkeeper on Market Street over oranges and apples and around ten minute to realize you can buy both apples and oranges at once."

"Okay, I'm good in academics, but not common sense. Never learned it; they didn't teach it back in High School."

They both share a chuckle as Quirrel puts ten apples and oranges into his bag.

"Well, that'll be twenty geo, please."

Quirrel passed twenty geo over, and, after saying goodbye, Quirrel set down the street towards his apartment; his inner grumbling beginning to take hold once again over the annoyingly drenching rain.

As he walked down the streets of the City of Tears, he thought about his discussion with that shopkeeper.

What an odd discussion. Maybe he should consider what she said more seriously.

Maybe... he should learn not to try and find happiness, but try to make it where he can?

Maybe.

Maybe just... just sit back and relax for a second, and learn to _make_ happiness.

For once, Quirrel walked to his apartment in a serene silence.

The once annoyingly loud pitter-patter of the rain and the commotion of people drowned out.

His brain, for once, wasn't filled to the brim with all sorts of issues and gripes.

It was empty. Silence.

But not anything more. It certainly wasn't a negative experience unlike so much of his walks home.

And so, his feet moved automatically and his eyes directed him home, as his mind slowed down as, for once, he basked in the serene silence.

For once, he did not grumble his way back home.

For once, he _smiled._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :)
> 
> 11/18/19


	5. Bounce In Your Step

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry that this chapter is particularly short. i felt like it was better to end where i did rather than to continue...

"Hey, Ghost, could you fetch me the vial on experimental motors? They should be somewhere in the fourth storage room, I believe."

Ghost gave a small nod before leaving his cubicle to fetch the said item.

Meanwhile, Quirrel continued to write up a report on the King's new proposal: A tramway.

They had been dreamed up years ago; but not many actually believed it was possible. The king however, was not going to let something like unnecessarity, high costs and other's uncertainty to dissuade him from commissioning a report on its potential.

Quirrel found himself mumbling as he wrote on the pages with quill. "The expensive cost of the slow experimental motors combined with the energy costs mean it is generally financially unviable, and in which the Stag Beetles have the advantage in all fields, save for passenger comfort and total cargo transportation."

"...Oh, I've finished the whole report."

A while back, he had asked Monomon that, even if it was worse than the Stag Beetles in almost every aspect, if the King would still commission a engineering design for said tramway.

She'd said that she would ask the King when he came by later this day.

If so, the standard procedure would be to have the Teacher or the Teacher's Assistant to write up a general listing and description on necessary components, general guidelines, goals, focal points, and submit a general design idea to the engineers and designers, which then do their thing.

And, well, even if he hadn't asked Monomon, he knew what the King would answer. Yes, yes he would.

But, for now, he had finished his report and really had nothing to do. So, he looked into his cabinet and-

Oh, what's this document doing here? Whoops, looks like he forgot to deposit this in the Classified Archives Storage Section.

Damn, they needed to really shorten down the names. In documents and in writing you were only allowed to reference this kind of stuff formally, aka no abbreviations, and writing in a report Classified Archive Storage Section for like the fiftieth time gets up ones nerves.

He looks at the title of the document.

_"Third Report Of Void Interactions With Living Beings - By Quirrel"_

Oh yeah, this thing.

He flips open to the middle of the book.

_"The void seems to even have a revival effect, where the substance is able to revive an organism at a rate of one mL per one kg of the organism's weight. The void has an odd sense of flow in a body, and will thus move in a pattern described in section 16.3 of this report. The revived organisms tend to show signs of-"_

Quirrel was brought out of his thoughts, surprisingly, by a faraway voice greeting one of his co-workers.

Oh. Monomon. His ear is trained to hear her voice so that he knew when to hide on weekends.

Quirrel quickly stuffed the document back in the cabinet and proceeded to sort out his desk and the earlier preliminary report on tramways. He'd need to deposit that document back into the C.A.S.S sooner or later.

"Oh, hey Quirrel!"

Slightly startled despite his knowledge that she'd be coming, he sorted his stuff busily as he greeted back.

"Ah, hey Monomon! Say, did the King get back to you?"

"Oh! Right! Yes, he said he would do so, knowing it would most likely end up more costly than the Stag Beetles."

Quirrel sighed. "Of course he is. He's quite stubborn when he sets his mind on something; to the point where it actually hinders himself."

"Nice, I'll remember to tell him that you said that next time I meet him! I'm sure he'll be pleased!" Monomon sarcastically replied.

Quirrel chuckled. "...Please don't, I have a wife and kids. And a job to work. Primarily the latter. Actually, that's the only reason why I don't want to get executed; I've heard they don't have work up in 'heaven'."

The two of them shared a laugh, before it was Monomon's turn to crack a joke. "You know, I've never met your wife, but I've sure as hell seen your kid."

"What? I don't..."

"Hey, are you insinuating that Ghost is my child?!" Quirrel angrily questioned.

A smile spread on Monomon's face.

Quirrel narrowed his eyes.

Monomon's smile grew.

"You know what I'm going to say."

"I do, and I hate it. Ghost is _not_ my child."

Monomon's smile grew even more.

"Well then, if they're not your child, then who are they? Oh, I know, call them like how other owner's of Vessels call them. Slaves, yeah?"

"..." Quirrel begins to sweat profusely, casting a glare to Monomon.

"Yes? No? So, what is it? Is it your child or your slave?"

"I don't wanna say."

"I already know what you _want_ to say, so just say it."

"...Okay, fine! I see him more as my child! You happy now!?" He angrily replies. He averts his gaze and a scowl forms on his face, although Monomon could see that he was genuinely angry from having to say it.

Of course, that's not surprising. Monomon knew Quirrel enjoyed, and believed in, his reputation as a workaholic; someone who was somewhat-scatterbrained and yet a genius, a formal and practical man who rarely ever smiled.

Of course he'd be angry that he had to admit something so... out of character for him. To actually have passionate feelings- as in _family_ love, not _actual_ love for Wyrms sake- for something that was literally built to be unfeeling.

However, she also wasn't very surprised. Considering his action during the Vessel project, she had sort of expected him to be fond for one if he got one. She remembered when the project was announced in full during a conference, in which the day after he walked directly from the Archives to the Palace _on foot,_ just to go to the King and complain in private.

In fact, Quirrel had very nearly lost his head due to that, but eventually decided to work on the project after the King had apparently blackmailed him. What the blackmail was, she never knew. It was between the King and him. It wasn't surprising, Quirrel was the only one who had the know how to actually remove the feelings from the Vessels.

Oh yeah. Well, that was then and this is now. And now, Quirrel was angrily moping away on his office chair.

A small smile showed on Monomon's features. "You know, it isn't a bad thing. In fact, I would say it's a good thing."

Startled from that reaction, he turns his head to Monomon. "...What?"

"Regardless, I'm glad you aren't really soulless, but rather an actual bug. It shows a side I rarely get to see, mostly because it doesn't exist, of you."

"...What do you mean?" Quirrel confusedly asks.

"The side of you that isn't just robotic. An actual bug who has an actual life outside of work, and has actual likes and dislikes, and actually has a soft spot for people. You know, I think you should show that side of you more.

Quirrel blushes. "I..."

A small, uncomfortable silence came over the two.

"Well, I guess I said what I needed to say. Hey, I've got stuff to do, so I'll just leave and act like I haven't left you in a burning wreck of an existential crisis. Bye!" And, with that, Monomon left Quirrel as he was a burning wreck of an existential crisis.

A few cubicles down, a certain Vessel who had fetched a certain vial hid behind a column as they listened to a certain conversation.

They walked up to Quirrel.

Regaining composure, Quirrel took the vial from them with a small smile, patting the area between their horns.

"Thanks, Ghost. Say, I feel like your steps have a little more bounce to them than usual. Why's that, eh?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 06/12/19


	6. Release

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> exams are over, and i can return to working!

Quirrel straightens the document in front of him.

_'Preliminary Report On Tram Systems - Division A'_

He's supposed to proofcheck this paper before they send it to the King, however to be honest the paper was less of a preliminary report and more of a plea to the King to please not do this, it is literally the stupidest idea in the world.

He knows the King's gonna do it regardless. Because its the Pale King.

He reads through the lines one by one.

This is boring.

And he's Quirrel.

Again, it's less of a preliminary report and just a plea to not go forth- so it isn't really even in need of a proofcheck, but he still has to do it. If some wrong info comes up, they're not gonna ask the division who wrote it- they're gonna ask the guy who's name is listed as proofreader.

He and Ghost diligently work together to make sure all the information is correct, removing any typos, yada yada yada...

Quirrel puts a hand over his mask. It's going to be a long day. "...Hey, Ghost, could you fetch me a cup of coffee?"

Ghost obediently nods before scurrying off to the cafeteria.

* * *

Monomon sighs to herself as she works away at her desk.

It's definitely late, but she needed to get some work done. She had arrived _very_ late anyway, so it was kinda her fault.

She probably won't admit that.

_knock._

"Come in."

Quirrel tiredly enters Monomon's study before dropping off the preliminary report on her desk.

"I never want to see this document ever again, period."

Turning around, Quirrel leaves the study and shuts the door before Monomon can even ask why he stayed at the Archives so late, or, more importantly, who in the world raised Quirrel and/or made Quirrel believe it was okay to knock one singular time on a door.

...Either way, that's besides the point.

Quirrel's been overworking himself. She can see it. It's even worse for him that he must care for his, heh, child. She hasn't, and wasn't going to, refrain from calling Ghost Quirrel's child, much to his chagrin, and the confusion of his co-workers.

At the same time, that workaholic attitude is bad for Quirrel. She knew that if he didn't enjoy life now, he never would.

Quirrel wouldn't be able to survive one week without working at the Archives.

Then again, that would serve for the perfect opportunity for Quirrel to reshape himself, and what better time to do that when you have all the time in the world and your entire ethos is thrown into chaos?

Monomon stops what she was doing and puts pencil to paper.

* * *

Quirrel enters his room, Ghost in tow.

"Whelp, goodnight, Ghost."

Sleepily, Quirrel pulls back his blankets and gets inside.

Ghost walks up to a smaller bed on the other side of the room, and does the same as Quirrel.

While Ghost did not particularly like sleeping in beds, preferring to sleep on the floor, Quirrel insisted that Ghost must sleep on a bed; <del>almost like a father.</del>

Quirrel found himself mumbling to nobody in particular. "Well, I'm just glad I managed to finish proofreading. That document slowly sucked the life out of me. Tomorrow, I'll be able to do normal stuff, and just work day to night. I can't wait..."

He sighs. "...At least it's not like it can get worse than this, like, I dunno, I was just straight up denied from working. That'd send me up the wall, I tell you."

Quirrel was yet to learn what 'jinx' was.

* * *

By the time he wakes up, he realises Ghost was gone.

This wasn't uncommon, but Ghost tended to- somewhat eerily - just stand next to his bed and wait for him to wake up. The bedroom door had been creaked open.

Quirrel began to panic a bit inside.

_please dont tell me ghost is just walking by himself outside someone could kidnap them and they could get in trouble please_

"...Ghost, are you there?"

In the background, he could hear shuffling, then a drawer open and close.

_Oh, good. That was probably Ghost._

Exiting his room, he was greeted by none other than his <del>favourite</del> Vessel.

Quirrel could physically feel himself loosen up. A smile spread across his face.

"Ah, good. You scared me for a minute there, Ghost!"

They tilted their head before setting themselves on the table, watching Quirrel go about his daily routine.

Of which, Coffee is first.

Quirrel heats up a kettle of water and proceeds to pour ground up coffee into the pot, and stirrs it. Waiting for it to boil, Quirrel made a small breakfast of a slice of bread with butter on top.

No- make that two slices. Why the hell not; bread with butter is a damn fine breakfast; no one can tell him otherwise.

He grabs the loaf of bread he had procured the day before, slices it, and spreads butter on top. Just as he is finishing, the kettle begins to whistle.

_Hmm, the coffee should be done._

Quirrel picks up the kettle and pours it into a cup.

"Oh shoot!-"

The handle was much hotter than he had expected, dropping the kettle.  
While he had only dropped it on the counter, he had still spilled quite a bit of coffee around the cup. Quirrel sighs. "Of _course._"  
Grumbling, he grabs a cloth and wipes down the table, a scowl on his face.

Really, this isn't that uncommon of a morning to Quirrel.

After cleaning, he simply chugs down the coffee as fast as possible. Quirrel doesn't actually like coffee; he just likes the fact it wakes him up. Besides that, he simply hates the aftertaste and finds it repulsive and just wants to get through the cup as fast as possible.

Quirrel grabs his breakfast, sits down at the table with Ghost, and begins eating.

Hold on.

Didn't he make two slices of bread? What happened to the other slice?

Looking up, Ghost was holding his other slice of bread.

"Uh, Ghost? Why do you have my breakfast?"

Ghost held it up...

And just sorta... _dipped_ it in their wyrmdamn _eye._

And pulled it out.

It was if they had just took a bite of the bread through their EYES.

Quirrel was, at this point, a tad dumbstruck. "....uh,"

Ghost simply gave him a thumbs up.

"I... uh, I thought... Didn't you sorta... say you didn't eat?"

Ghost shook their head.

"...You need to eat?"

Ghost shook their head once more.

"...You... Can eat, but don't _need_ to?"

Ghost nodded.

"Do you even feel hunger?"

Ghost nodded once more.

Oh.

_Well, they dont _need_ to._

_But..._

Quirrel sighed as he took a bite of his now half-of-a-breakfast. "Well... I guess I'll make you dinner and lunch then. Should've told me."

They pointed to their mouth.

"...You make a convincing argument."

This is his normal morning routine, I guess.

As he finishes the bread, he goes to fetch his wallet.

Quirrel walks over and checks the small table near the door.

It's not there.

Oh yeah, when he came back he put it in the drawer.

Quirrel opens the drawer. Specifically one, which Quirrel doesn't really know what to call it other than the Man Drawer.

Full of hammers of varying sizes, sheets of paper and several pens and pencils, buttons, an eraser or two, and every knickknack that he just doesn't want to throw away. hell; there's even an engineer's pocketbook in here.

He finally finds the wallet hidden behind a Rubik's cube and a hammer.

Shutting the drawer, he looks at the counter.

Whoops. Took out that Rubik's cube, and didn't put it back.

Wait, what? He had recalled that that Rubik's cube had not been solved at all. And yet here it was, the entire white side finished.

Sure, the white squares weren't in the right place- but he had never had the time to actually learn how to solve a Rubik's cube.

Looking to his side, he looked at the clock and realised just how late it was. His heart skipped a beat. "Oh shoot! Ghost, we're late!"

The two off them ran off into the morning, running to the nearby stag station.

* * *

Quirrel ran after the stag as it began to depart. "Wait! Stop; I'll be late!" He called.

But it's hard to hear over the sound of a hundred others talking about in the station.

"Well, there goes our ride." Quirrel mumbles to nobody in particular as Ghost catches up to him.

After the two sit down at a nearby bench, Quirrel sighs as he waits for the next ride.

"We're definitely late now. Yay."

Ghost merely observed him while he waited for the next stag to arrive.

* * *

Quirrel walked back into his apartment; Ghost in tow.

"Whelp, time to make dinner. I'll make a stew. Frankly, I'm feeling quite lazy today."

Quirrel dropped half a fish on his cutting board; sourced from the nearby butcher. Taking out a knife, he begins to prepare to dice up the meat.

A tap.

"Hmm? What do you need, Ghost?"

Ghost points to the knife, and then themselves.

"...You want to help make dinner?"

They excitedly nodded in agreement.

Quirrel let out a little sigh; a smile forming on his face.

"No problem, let me teach you how, okay?"

Handing them the knife, he grabs a stool for Ghost to stand on. "Here, hold the knife like this, and make gentle cuts with it. Start with the front on the board and back raised, then lower it while moving the knife back."

Ghost followed the instructions to a T as they neatly diced up the fish. Quirrel proceeded to pour out the contents straight into a boiling pot.

Next, the potatoes, carrots, and garlic all diced and into the pot.

To top it all off, bread with butter to be dipped into the soup.

"Well, that's all finished." Quirrel said, satisfied. "Let's eat now, shall we?"

Pouring out the stew into two wooden bowls, Quirrel carried the bowls, bread, and two spoons to his dinner table.

As the two of them sat down, Quirrel filled his spoon with stew and blew on it.

Looking up- "Oh my Wyrm! No, you don't eat stew like that, Ghost!"

Ghost had been eating straight out of the bowl, with no regard for something like etiquette or finesse. Quirrel took a horrified look at the table's condition and didn't have any hope for the floor's.

"Well, looks like I'll have to clean up the floor later..." Sighing, he turned back to Ghost. "You use a spoon. Fill it up with stew, and eat from that, not from the bowl. And try not to spill, okay?"

Ghost nodded, clearly oblivious to what they'd done.

Honestly, even if they knew what they did was wrong, they'd probably be shameless.

After all, they _were_ unfeeling.

* * *

Quirrel leaned back onto the counter of his kitchen as he took a sip from his black now-lukewarm coffee. Just how he likes it, even if his co-workers consider black lukewarm coffee an affront to bugmanity.

He decided to skip breakfast for the morning. He'll probably be late, otherwise.

Chugging it down, he turned to Ghost, who sat obediently.

"You ready to head off, Ghost?"

Ghost turned to look at him and simply nodded, before standing up.

Quirrel smiled as he walked towards the door, before stopping, Ghost behind him.

...There's an envelope on the floor, slid from under the door. No doubt from the mailman. It was sent from the Archives, seemingly.

"...Oh, mail from the Archives?" He picks up the envelope from the floor. Ripping the Hallownest seal off and taking out the letter, he reads the contents aloud.

_(dear reader, despite me telling quirrel he was not allowed to use no-no words; he clearly didnt care. quirrel did not think of the kids hard enough. we have censored these profane words to protect the pure hearts of the reader.)_

"Dear Quirrel, it is in your best interests that I must do this for you. I tell you this, not as your teacher, but as your friend. I know this will be hard for you, but I believe it will turn out for the better for you.

I worry for you, Quirrel. I worry that you think too little of yourself. I worry that you'll work yourself out 'til death.

I want you to spend this time well. I want you to discover who you really are, Quirrel. Not just a robotic unfeeling bug that works day and night.

I wish you the best of luck. Explore, and take joy in the little things of life. Please.

I'm sorry, but I have to do this.

And so,

Hereby, by the Teacher's decree, you, Scholar and Teacher's Assistant Quirrel, have been put on paid mandatory leave for three weeks.

See me, or enter the Archives, and I'll give you an extra three weeks.

In your best interests,

\- Monomon"

Quirrel was, quite literally, shaking and crying right now.

The letter fluttered to the ground as it slowly set in for him.

Three weeks.

Three.

"The- The..." Quirrel stammered, at a loss for words "No. No. No. You can't- You can't just ████ing-" Quirrel shakily put his hands over his head.

"What do you expect me to do with this?! Three weeks of what?! Sitting around, walking about, doing ████ing _what?!_"

Quirrel was not really sure who he was screaming to, as frankly, Monomon was about half the kingdom away, which is a bit past hearing distance.

"I- I can't even go and ████ing talk to her! You just put this ████ into a letter to make me _not_ talk to you!"

Quirrel quieted down and took a deep br-

"Stupid ███ing letter!" He shouted as he kicked the letter towards the door.

However, as you might know, kicking a flat object on the floor is quite hard. Instead of his foot meeting the very soft paper, his foot met the very not-soft door directly infront of him.

"OWW!" Quirrel yelled as he raised his foot; having stubbed it on the door, before losing his balance and falling backwards.

However, instead of his head meeting the atleast not bone hard floor, his head met the very much so bone hard head of Ghost.

...

Ghost sat himself up, seeing the now unconscious Quirrel next to him.

The floor is not a place where Quirrel enjoys to sleep. Quirrel, therefore, was sleeping in a place where Quirrel did not enjoy sleeping.

...Ghost has decided to rectify this. Even if Ghost has other priorities. Even if Quirrel cannot feel while sleeping, Quirrel should not be sleeping in a place where Quirrel does not enjoy to sleep.

Ghost picked up Quirrel by Quirrel's hands and dragged him over to the room where Quirrel sleeps in.

Ghost dragged back the sheets covering the bed in which Quirrel sleeps in, and made sure Quirrel was in a comfortable condition.

Ghost begins to leave the room, before looking back.

...

Ghost moves to the bed Quirrel sleeps in, and brings the sheets covering the bed over Quirrel.

Ghost is subpar at doing this. Ghost knows this.

Ghost slowly closes the door, as to not awake Quirrel.

Ghost walks up to the counter, and picks up a tissue from the tissue box.

Ghost cleans Ghost's face and puts it into the garbage bag.

...No. Quirrel will find out.

Ghost picks up the tissue paper and throws it out the window.

As Ghost watches the black-stained tissue float to the streets below, Ghost thinks.

Ghost is glad that Quirrel had not turned around when Quirrel was getting mad.

Ghost was shocked too. Ghost did not know how to live without work.

Ghost did not want Quirrel to see what Ghost was doing.

Ghost turns away from the window.

At the least, Ghost learned the tears of Vessels were black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 05/FEB/19


	7. Emotional Boxes And Burgers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ghost faces his greatest foe yet; a rubix cube

When Quirrel woke up, he was instantly hit with a head-splitting headache.

_owww..._ Quirrel whispered to himself as he slowly brought his hand to his head.

_Oh yeah, I fell and hit my head..._

Quirrel decided to stay in bed. While his reasoning was that he had hit his head and had a headache, it was more so (and he wouldn't admit it) that he wouldn't know what to do if he got out of bed.

Quirrel grumbled has he slipped back into his covers, trying to ignore his headache. It'd be better later.

Ghost sat at the table, the odd little box in their hands.

...

After half a minute of being as still as a statue, Ghost slowly turned the left side of the box.

Another green spot aligned with the green side.

This box... It was an enigma for Ghost.

After a long while of thinking, it was clear that the goal was to make every side the same colour. However, how to do that was something Ghost had trouble figuring out.

They still remember when they first found that box.

* * *

_Ghost's new owner had just shut the door on them._

_Ghost doesn't really mind. (They can't, after all.) For now, Ghost decided to examine their new home._

_Opening one of the drawers, Ghost pulled out a box. It was made of six different colours, all spread across the box. Each side was split into nine squares, all of them with a random colour._

_..._

_Whatever. This is just a box. Ghost does not care. They cannot care. They must not care._

_Ghost decided to return to their original position, and wait for their owner to come back._

* * *

_Ghost did not <del>want</del> _(No. I cannot want.)_ to sleep. Instead, Ghost got out of bed and entered into the main room._

_For a while, Ghost just stood there._

_..._

_No, Ghost should do something. It is not productive to stand still for hours._

_But, what should Ghost do then?_

_Eventually, Ghost opened the drawer from before. Again, that box stood there, its purpose completely unknown._

_..._

_Ghost took out the box. Soon enough, they noticed they could rotate sides of the box._

_..._

_It could rotate this way and that. The end result had no difference, other than the colours change position._

_A question formulated in Ghost's head._

_Could you get each side to be a different colour? After counting the individual squares, he noticed there are exactly nine of each colour; just enough to make each side one different colour._

_..._

_Wait._

_No._

_Ghost just had made a question._

_No. Questions are bad. Questions lead to curiosity. Curiosity is an emotion. Emotions are bad._

_This box made him make a question._

_This box is bad._

_Ghost curtly put back the cube and shut the drawer._

_It would be better for this box to be forgotten; never to be seen again._

* * *

_But that's not how it works, is it?_

_Whenever he waited for Quirrel to prepare his meal, their eyes would keep wandering to that drawer, and every time it did, they could feel a question forming at the back of their head._

_All before turning away. Questions are bad. Wants are bad. Feelings are bad. Thinking is bad._

_The box did not matter. It was just a box. Nothing more, nothing less._

_It was just a box. It can't be that hard to forget._

* * *

_Ghost walked around the kitchen._

_It was late at night. Ghost knew they were supposed to be in bed. Ghost, quite evidently, was not in bed._

_But Ghost had caved at this point. This box- it kept gnawing at Ghost's head; making Ghost unfocused and distracted._

_Ghost had to put an end to it._

_As Ghost picked up the box once more, Ghost began to ponder once more: Could Ghost make all the sides a different colour?_

_Ghost knew questions were bad. But Ghost also knew Ghost couldn't resist this question._

_Just this once. It couldn't be _that_ bad._

* * *

_Ghost looked at the box once more._

_Ghost put down the box. Even though Ghost tried, Ghost couldn't even get four white spots on the same side._

_Ghost was angry at the box._

_...No. Ghost was not angry. Ghost cannot be angry. Angry is an emotion; a Vessel cannot have emotion._

_"Ghost, are you there?"_

_Without thinking, Ghost opened the drawer and put the box inside, before closing the drawer and turning towards the door as it opened._

_"Ah, good. You scared me for a minute there, Ghost!" Quirrel joked as he loosened up._

_Ghost opted to simply tilt their head before setting themselves on the table as they watched Quirrel go about his daily routine._

_Ghost was distracted while they watched him though. Unsurprisingly, Ghost were thinking about the box._

_...Why couldn't Ghost solve the box?_

_...Maybe the box is too hard for Ghost. Ghost was not meant to solve the box._

_..._

_...So what?_

_...Ghost is probably just not good enough! Yes!_

_If Ghost tries harder, Ghost will be able to solve the box!_

* * *

Ghost stopped for a minute.

Even now, days later, Ghost had trouble even connecting one side together.

...Why?

Ghost had tried all sorts of methods. No matter how close Ghost gets to completing a side, they always end up failing.

Maybe Ghost was thinking about this wrong.

Maybe?

Maybe Ghost was thinking too much about winning. About completing one side.

_"If you can never get it right, no matter how hard you try, then do it wrong. Re-invent the wheel. It might teach you something new."_

...

...Quirrel had said that to Ghost once when Ghost could not read the Archive Vials, no matter how hard Ghost tried.

It _had_ worked. Ghost tried to read it in different ways and found Ghost's own, unique way of reading the Archive Vial that would probably drive an average person insane.

(To be fair, regardless of the method of reading, the Archive Vial storage system would drive any average person insane.)

Ghost returned back to the cube, and began applying the same principle to it.

This way and that, tracking each block and seeing where it goes, and trying all sorts of methods.

* * *

Ghost looked at Ghost's new accomplishment.

The box was far from solved. However, Ghost managed to get one side entirely green.

Sure, Ghost had completed a sixth of the cube, but that was a sixth that _Ghost_ had completed. Hours and hours of trial and error from Ghost. The finished product was only the cherry on top; the effort that Ghost had poured into this cube was the cake. And Ghost was proud of it.

...

Proud?

Ghost tilted their head.

Ghost wasn't supposed to feel pride.

...

wait...

Ghost wasn't even supposed to do this cube in the first place!

First this cube makes Ghost have a question, then it makes Ghost have an _emotion?!_

Ghost has never felt emotion before! This cube is the cause!

...

Isn't Ghost angry right now?

_**GHOST IS NOT SUPPOSED TO HAVE EMOTION!**_ Ghost shouted in their head, with, quite evidently, deep lack of emotion and complete and utter apathy with absolutely no anger in their tone.

Ghost paused for a moment.

This box is nothing but trouble for Ghost.

<del>Out of anger,</del> **_(no. Ghost cannot feel anger.)_** Ghost decided to put the box back in the drawer.

Again, Ghost had never felt emotion ever before. No. It was impossible.

_"...Okay, fine! I see him more as my child! You happy now!?"_

...Ghost remembered how he overheard Quirrel say that at the Archives a while back.

That time... Ghost felt different. Ghost acted differently. Ghost did things faster, and Ghost walked with steps that could even be called...

...Happy?

No. It was impossible. Ghost was a Vessel. Ghost was not supposed to feel, and Ghost will not feel.

Ghost decided to sit at the table, and do nothing.

_no._ Ghost thought to themselves. _ghost is empty. ghost has no feelings._

Ghost stared at the pot on the counter a good three or so metres away.

And just stared.

_ghost is fine as it is. ghost does not need anything more. ghost does not want. ghost does not need._

...

Ghost is confused.

Ghost has done this before. Ghost has stared into nothing plenty before. Ghost did it when they first came to Quirrel's apartment, when they were at the shop where Quirrel bought them, and at the abyss.

Ghost never had a problem with it. But now, Ghost does not do this.

Ghost wants to do something.

Nononono, Ghost cannot want. Ghost is empty, empty cannot have want. Ghost will sit here.

This is bori-

No. It is nothing. Boring is okay. Boring is empty.

I want to do somet-

No.

You know you want to do something.

No. No, Ghost does not.

You can't-

"Hey Ghost!"

Ghost flinched in surprise at the sudden unintentional interjection between them and themselves.

"Oh sorry, I didn't mean to surprise you!" he sheepishly says in response to Ghost's action. "I'll go whip myself up a brunch. It's quite late... It's even past lunch time."

Ghost gestures towards their own head.

"Hmm? My head? Ah, it's okay. It still hurts, but I can get over that."

Quirrel opens his pantry...

...to find it empty.

Quirrel stares at the pantry for a second as his brain slowly processed what he was seeing. "Ah. I forgot, I was supposed to get some grocieries the other day." He closed the pantry with a deep sigh and turned to Ghost. "Well, I guess I have to eat out."

* * *

Quirrel left his apartment complex and immediately his inner grumbling began.

Rain. Cold. Wet. He hated it with such a burning passion that not even all the rain from the city could put out.

He walked through the drenched streets as Ghost followed him closely behind. As usual, Ghost was completely unaffected by the rain.

Quirrel turned a familiar backstreet and walked into a familiar small restaurant.

"Welcome ta' Burger Emporium!" The restaurant owner, Brodie called out. " ...Oh, Quirrel! it certainly has been a while."

"Yeah," Quirrel answered as he walked up to order. "My life has been a bit hectic recently." He noticed that the restaurant was much emptier than it was usually, only to realize it was a workday during work hours, which explained that.

"I assume part of that has to do with what I can only assume is your Vessel?" Brodie commented, looking down at the small creature.

"Well, you're not wrong."

" 'Aight. Well, I'm assuming just a cheeseburger and fries, as usual?"

Quirrel hesitated for a moment. "Uh... Oh yeah, an extra cheeseburger for the little guy, please."

Brodie chuckled as he walked into the open kitchen behind him and poured some fries into the deep fryer. "Ah, a nice owner, eh? I've had a few others come here with Vessels, none o' them gave food to their Vessels."

"...Really? That's... kinda inhumane, no?"

Brodie furrowed his eyebrows as he cooked two patty. "Yeah, that's what sucks. But I'm pleasantly unsurprised that you're atleast a good lad. I always knew you had a little compassion in yer workaholic mindset."

Quirrel sighed. "First Monomon and now you? I swear, everyone's out to get my reputation as a workaholic."

Brodie chuckled. "Chin up, eh? It's a good thing. Don't kick yerself down for somethin' good like that."

"Heh, you're real nice for a restaurant owner."

"Thanks. I always enjoy talking to others, so I guess that's why. Also, that's eight Geo." Brodie answered as he handed the two burgers and fries over on a tray.

"Well, thanks as always, Brodie." Quirrel thanked as he fished nine Geo from his pocket and handed it over.

"Pleasure doing business with ya too." Brodie smiled as he recieved the payment. "Have a great meal!"

Quirrel chuckled. "You too!" He called out as he moved to a table and sat, Ghost in tow.

...

"...oh god i'm an idiot..." Quirrel whispered to himself as he brought his hands to his face, realizing what he had just said.

Grabbing their burger <del>out of impatience</del>_(no. cannot have emotions.)_ because they <del>wanted to eat</del> _(no. cannot have want.)_ were hungry. _(that's okay.)_

Inspecting it for a bit as they turned it in their hands, they slowly brought it up to their right eye and took a bite out of the burger.

_....this.... is good._

_this makes Ghost... happy? No, Ghost cannot be happy._

_just like that box. this gives Ghost emotion, and emotion is wrong._

Ghost put down the burger onto the table.

"You like it?" Quirrel asked, seemingly over his blunder.

Ghost hurriedly nodded their head.

"Good to hear!" Quirrel exclaimed, grabbing his own burger and promptly stuffing his mouth with it.

_...Ghost cannot just not eat this burger._

_not doing so would...._

_...hurt Quirrel's feelings?_

_but so what? Quirrel's feelings should not be my problem..._

_to care about Quirrel's feelings means Ghost has feelings too, no?_

_no. no. Ghost cannot eat this burger. the burger makes ghost feel. feel is wrong._

_but if Ghost does not eat the burger, Quirrel will be... hurt._

_...but if Ghost eat the burger for Quirrel, that means Ghost can feel._

_..._

_no... Ghost can not care, which means Ghost will not eat the burger!_

Ghost stared at the burger with such intensity that the author can't find an analogy for it.

Ghost was torn between a rock and a hard place, even if they wouldn't admit it, because the correct decision, in Ghost's eyes, was quite obvious. Don't eat it.

...Ghost took a deep breath.

Ghost had made their decision.

Grabbing the burger, Ghost brought it up and took a bite from it.

_...it's because Quirrel wanted me to, nothing else..._ Ghost whispered to themselves as they ate.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2020/03/17


	8. The Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wew lads 1 and a half month wait
> 
> p sure this is a new record
> 
> (i need to manage my time better...)

Quirrel grimaced.

"This damned rain..." Quirrel complained, for seemingly the thirtieth time.

Next to Quirrel was Ghost, staying closer to Quirrel than usual.

It wasn't exactly unwarranted, given the density of people around. This was actually the first time Quirrel went to the market with Ghost in tow. Usually, he'd just go alone. However, on this particular day, when he went to go to the market, Ghost decided to follow him.

It's not like Quirrel was opposed to them coming along, so he just decided to roll with it.

_Well, I had no objections, but it certainly is odd for Ghost to just follow me when I'm going to the market._ Quirrel mused to himself.

_ghost hopes Quirrel didn't find that odd..._ Ghost thinks at the same time.

Quirrel looked about nervously. He could feel the glaces that stared deeply at him and Ghost.

The judging looks.

Vessels were, unsurprisingly, almost exclusively for the rich. Between those who despised the rich and those who despised the usage of Vessels for free labour...

Well, that doesn't exactly concoct the friendliest of glares.

The glances they poorly try to hide when you look back at them.

Quirrel, as an introvert, was not used to this. Quirrel didn't particularly enjoy being the spotlight of any situation, and usually just kept his head down.

Now, he felt like the centre of attention, and he did _not_ like that. The best, and only option, was to just ignore it.

What was he going to do, go and shout in the middle of the damned street to stop looking at him like stupid main characters in comics and the like? Yeah, that's kinda stupid. Getting the spotlight off you by shouting at the top of your lungs.

Absolute genius.

Stowing away his gripes with main characters in stories for later, Quirrel entered a modest butchery he commonly bought from and entered the busy line.

It wasn't anything particularly special. The owner served all sorts of meat, from those exclusively for the richest of bugs to meat even the bugs from the slums could buy from time to time.

After about five minutes, they finally reached the front, Ghost tiptoeing to get a better look over the counter.

"What'll you have today, Quirrel?"

"Ah, not much. Just the usual, I'll have a kilogram of tiktik meat."

Just then, a certain being caught the butcher's eyes. "...Huh."

"What?"

"...I always found that odd. Never took you for a particularly rich person 'cause you only bought tiktik meat, but you own a Vessel?" the butcher asked, rummaging under his desk for the tiktik meat.

"Oh, I gave you those vibes? I just live a bit frugally is all. Though I wouldn't particularly call myself rich..." He said the last part under his breath.

Sure, Quirrel was by no means on the same level as other commoners, but at most he was upper-middle class or lower-upper class.

"...Then why'd you get a Vessel?"

"Uh.... They help me out with my work as a personal assistant of some sort."

"Hmm, really?" The butcher asks. "Lucky one then. Most Vessels I've seen were fated for inhumane forced labour in the Crystal Peaks." He finishes, dropping Quirrel's order on the counter.

"...I haven't exactly heard much of how those Vessels are treated, but from what I have heard, I'd rather _not_ hear more." Quirrel reluctantly answers, fishing out 15 peices of Geo from his pocket.

"Well, by that I presume you treat your Vessel nicely!"

Quirrel sheepishly laughs as he grabs the meat from the counter. "I get teased that I'm treating Ghost too much like an actual bug. Anyway, I'll be heading out. Take care!"

"You too!" The butcher responds.

On the way out, Quirrel gives the butcher a wave, Ghost tailing behind as they both leave back into the rain.

_...ghost is a lucky vessel._ They conclude.

* * *

Quirrel takes a deep breath as he shuts the door with a creak.

"Wow, that was the most paranoid trip to the market I've ever had." He mutters, mostly for himself. "No use working myself up a wall now. Time to get to cooking..."

Half an hour later and Quirrel had whipped up a nice meal of tiktik meat, asparagus, and rice slathered with beans.

A nice, homey meal, steaming hot.

"Ready to eat, Ghost?" Quirrel says to Ghost, who has been observing him for the entirety of the meal's preparation.

Ghost merely nods as he brings two plates brimming with food to the table, before returning to grab some cutlery and two glasses of water.

Ghost then took a large bite of beans and rice.

It was warm. Not steaming hot, but not lukewarm. The soft beans and rice mixed together to almost melt in your mouth, and the strong taste allowed for small bites allowing you to savour the taste. It was a warm, homely taste, even if the aftertaste was not so grand.

If Ghost could smile, they probably would.

_...but... why?_

It wasn't uncommon for Quirrel to make rice with beans. While they hadn't had some for quite a while, why did Ghost only really pay attention to the taste now?

_..._

_no, no no no..._ Ghost thinks, shaking their head. _no, it can't be because of something like feelings... ghost is a vessel, ghost cannot feel. maybe ghost is just imagining it. after all, ghost hasn't eaten this food in a while. maybe ghost just noticed it now. doesn't mean feelings._

Ghost shoved down their concerns as they took a bite of the tiktik meat.

It was lightly salted to near perfection, with a pinch of some pepper. The scales became much softer after cooking, but not enough to feel soggy, adding a nice crunch to the tender meat.

The same thought from before creeped into their mind. Ghost decided to ignore it.

If you ignore it, it doesn't exist then, right?

Ghost began to eat slowly. Smaller bites, to savour that taste. They realized it was no use to just shove it down their throat- or, eyes, in Ghost's case- and they'd rather slowly enjoy it.

"Oh wow, I ate a lot quicker than expected." Quirrel muttered.

Ghost looks up to see Quirrel's plate licked clean, even though they hadn't even gotten through a third of their plate.

"Uh, sorry... Did you not like the food?"

Ghost frantically shakes his head.

"Oh, you liked it?" Quirrel responds, as if a big weight was just released from his back. _...was quirrel really that scared ghost didn't like it?_ "Sorry, was a bit scared you didn't like it, 'cause you were being a bit slow..."

Ghost gave Quirrel a thumbs up, before returning to their plate.

* * *

After another ten minutes or so of Ghost eating and Quirrel lazing around on the couch pretending he was perfectly fine with everything and he just wanted to be lazy and in no way was he itching to do something- _anything_ Wyrmdamnit, Ghost finally finishes their meal, putting it on the kitchen counter to be washed. With nothing else to do, Ghost decided to go and sit with Quirrel at the couch.

"...I don't know what to do."

Ghost turned their head to look at Quirrel, who, for seemingly the first time, had the look of someone who was... lost. Concern, confusion and uncertainty showed through his gaze towards the floor. Not exactly surprising though- Quirrel's life consisted of not much more than his job, being a workaholic and all.

"...Maybe we can go somewhere?" Quirrel mused, leaning back onto the couch. "I've... Well, yeah it's a bit embarrassing, but I've never seen the sky..."

Quirrel's gaze turned towards Ghost. "What do you think?"

Ghost, being quite an impartial being due to their... nature, simply looked back and Quirrel without responding.

Quirrel snorted. "What am I doing, asking a Vessel? Maybe this whole break thing really is getting to my head."

"...Well, we have nothing else to really do, so I wouldn't mind going to Dirtmouth to see the bright sky or something."

* * *

Quirrel got off the stag with his bag, Ghost on his heels.

"Thanks for the ride!" Quirrel says to the stag as it rides off.

"Well then, Ghost. Are you ready to see the sky?" He asks them.

Ghost quickly and vigourously nodded.

...Before Ghost realizing their mistake.

_...did ghost nod too hard?!_ Ghost instantly thought to themselves. _that means ghost _wants_ to go see the sky! wants are bad, ghost can not have wants!_

Ghost pauses for a second, taking an imaginary deep breath. _ok. ghost is okay, ghost is not feeling, and especially Quirrel does not think ghost has feelings. if Quirrel thinks that, Quirrel might throw ghost away-_

Quirrel gave a little chuckle. "Alright little buddy, let's go see the sky, since you're so **energetic.**"

That line felt like a spear thrown right through Ghost's head.

Quirrel, thinking about the sky, just sort of let his mouth do the talking. He hadn't really even registered that Ghost was being quite 'energetic'. That, combined with Quirrel's social ineptitude, really hadn't actually realized or thought anything about Ghost that Ghost would not want.

On the other hand, Ghost felt like his new carrer of at the Crystal Peaks or deep in a landfill had just been sealed.

"Uh, are you okay, Ghost?" Quirrel asked out of concern after realizing they weren't following him.

Ghost had seemingly just... froze for a second there?

Ghost snapped their head towards Quirrel.

_oh._

_okay, ghost will act unfeeling. maybe Quirrel does not think ghost is feeling yet. ghost will show ghost is unfeeling!_ Ghost proclaimed to themselves as they walked back to Quirrel.

Quirrel snickered. "...What was that about?"

Ghost, not willing to say anything (not like they could anyway) simply stared at Quirrel.

Quirrel sighed, sheepishly. "Right. You can't exactly communicate. Anyways, let's go, shall we?"

Ghost by Quirrel's side, they left the station and looked up to the night sky.

And Ghost was instantly entranced by it.

The bright dots of the stars, twinkling about... It was a sight like none other Ghost had ever seen before.

No matter how much Ghost moved about, the stars would stay in their own place, much unlike anything Ghost had seen before, which wasn't a surprise. It was rare to find anyplace where you could look straight ahead in any direction for even one kilometer.

And, above it all, the giant moon looked down on them, a full moon this night.

Ghost could stare at this for hours on end. In fact, they might just.

"Hey Ghost!" Quirrel called from a few meters from them, breaking them out of their trance.

"Come here! There's more!"

That instantly caught Ghost's attention, and they began to run to Quirrel.

"Apparently the lights of the city hide much of the stars. Let's go find some place dark, okay?" He said, pulling out a lumafly lamp from his bag.

Ghost excitedly nodded, too impatient and energetic to remember their proclamation from before about not showing feelings.

A while ways of the city, Quirrel pulled out a mobile telescope from his bag and mounted it upon a tripod, before putting away his lumafly lamp.

And then, just like that, the night sky began to glow bright, like a hidden giant canvas of flowing colours.

Thousands of little bright dots filled the sky, and what was once just a dark black canvas turned to purples and blues.

Ghost couldn't tear their eyes away from it.

"Hey Ghost, you can use the telescope, you know."

Bringing them out of their little trance once more, Quirrel put the telescope right in front of them for them to use.

Ghost certainly had little hesitation to use it.

They took to the telescope with vigour; looking at certain parts of the sky for several minutes in a row, admiring every dim star and drawing imaginary lines between them.

Ghost truly was entranced by that sky.

Meanwhile, Quirrel sat by on a rock that was just the perfect size for a chair. While Quirrel could and did enjoy the night sky, it wasn't particularly that interesting for him.

To him, it was just a bunch of dots strung together across the sky.

An unknown, and one that will probably be forever.

Quirrel was, for the most part, a workaholic. He was entranced by the unknown, but instantly lost all interest if he deemed it 'unsolvable'. He wasn't a person who really enjoyed this kind of stuff, and he really didn't see how others did either. However, it certainly was impossible for him to say that it didn't brighten his day up a little.

He turned to look at Ghost, happily looking to and fro at the sky above.

Being way too socially dense for Ghost's emotions to hit Quirrel, a little smile grew across Quirrel's face.

It wouldn't hurt to stay a little longer here, where it was calm and peaceful.

Away from the busy and bustling roads of the City and the halls of the Archives.

Everything here was serene and quiet.

It wouldn't hurt to enjoy this moment for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20/05/03


	9. Pancakes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> two whole months! a new record!
> 
> shoot me

"I just.... I dunno what to do now, you know?"

In the back alleys of the City of Tears, in a dimly lit restaurant, a pillbug takes a swig of some cheap beer.

When Quirrel felt down and needed a place to sit back and vent, he'd usually prop up shop well past the service hours of the Burger Emporium and have a nice long chat with the owner that would run well into the night.

It was rare for him to do this; maybe once every two months or so. He usually had little to vent about, but when he did, he found solace with Brodie, the owner of Burger Emporium. Brodie didn't mind, he enjoys having someone to talk to, even if they are just venting stuff onto him. Brodie also enjoyed giving out advice, and Quirrel was usually more than happy to take it.

Brodie chuckles, picking up another glass to clean from behind the counter. "I feel ya, chap. That feelin' of having nothing to do, and wanting to do everything."

Quirrel sighs. "Well... I mean, thankfully, once this is all over, I can go back to doing my usual business."

"Eh, I wouldn't be so sure of that, yeah? If ya don't change, I wouldn't be surprised if the Teacher just sent you on another leave."

Quirrel turned away from the counter. "But how _do_ you change?! You cant just go and say, 'I'm gonna be a different person now!' and become a different person! I tried! I went to go see the sky up there in Dirtmouth. I dunno what I was thinking, was I just gonna have, like, a... e.. an epi.. eur..?"

"Epiphany?"

"Yeah, that. But no. It was a sky. Sure, it's unique and something new, but it's just a _darn sky._ Bunch of lights that we'll never understand, but in the end it's just that. Lights. I don't see how anyone can like it, and I can't like it."

"...I think you're just being a stick-in-the-mud, and that's the issue."

Turning his head to Brodie with a face of disbelief, he asked, "What do you mean?"

"There's... an old saying me dad always said to me. Was usually different based on th' situation, but the message is always the same. I hated it at the time, trust me. But I always found it to be true."

"Well what is it, then?"

"You find it boring because you _want_ it to be boring."

Quirrel looked at him with some mild annoyance. "...That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

Brodie gave a chuckle. "I know. I thought the same thing a long while ago. But it always turns out to be true, you know?"

"Then how do I _not_ find it boring?" Quirrel asked.

"Simple. Just watch the sky. You don't even need to pay attention, jus' soak it in. Don't try to find the happiness, the happiness will come for you. Not only that, but you're so invested into this whole 'I can't enjoy anything' shtick that ya forget all the things ya can find so nice about the sky and instead keep screamin' to yerself over n' over 'bout how tha sky's rubbish."

Quirrel let out a deep sigh, stuffing his face into the counter in exasperation. "yeah, yeah. sure. whatever."

"Oh, don't be a like that. Chin up, eh?"

Silence filled the air, save for the sounds of glass clinking as Brodie placed away newly-cleaned glasses.

Quirrel brought up his face and perched his chin on the table. "There's another thing I wanted to ask you."

"I'm all ears."

"How do you get a hobby?"

Brodie laughed. "What do ya mean? Ya just... get one."

"Well I've never had a hobby."

"In all the years o' your life, you've _never_ had a single hobby?"

"Does studying count?"

Brodie stared at me, a face of pity emanating past his mask.

"Don't look at me like that, please..."

"Listen. Hobbies are something you find o'er your life, it ain't born in one day. It's something ya have _passion_ for- something that you spend a lotta time on, and get a deep feelin' o' happiness and joy once ya finish. And, sometimes, in the moment, ya think it's slow and borin', but once you finish, you really notice how much fun you're havin'."

"Like what? What's your hobbies?"

"Makin' fir-" Brodie cut himself off, before thinking for a bit.

"...Craftsmanship." He completed, hesitation in his voice. "I love makin' things, 'specially _mechanical_ things. Learnin', buildin', perfectin' little things to make something that _just works._"

"Well, something like that sounds quite interesting, though I dunno how hard it is. I'm a bug of... writing papers and theory, not getting my hands dirty. It's too... unpredictable, no? Math is simple and never is wrong- in _theory._ Now going one step ahead and worrying about practicability, now that's throwing a monkey wrench into the whole equation."

"Yeah, it's certainly annoying, innit? But that hobby is an odd one. Might fit ya, but there's other ones out there, you know. You could try sewing, you could try your hand at art, you could try being an explorer- someone who loves to see the peculiarities of different environments and cultures, you know?"

"HAH. Nice joke, 'explorer.' In a million years." Quirrel exclaims.

"Well, ya never know. It'd be a funny juxtaposition though- an introverted, shut-in nerd who loves exploring and seeing new things. Back on track though, you could even try cooking."

"Cooking?"

"I mean, yeah. You get to enjoy the fruits of your labour, and you get to have others directly enjoy your hobby. Plus, ya got the _beeest_ mentor over here." Brodie finished, winking.

"Oh, shut up."

Quirrel looked down onto his glass, then unto his bottle. "...Oh shoot, I'm all out of beer."

"Good timing. Just finished cleaning all the dishes."

"Alright. Time to head out, I guess."

"Oh! Jus' a second- I left it here somewhere..." Brodie mumbled.

Then, Brodie pulls out a small book, handing it to Quirrel.

"What's this?" Quirrel asks, taking the book and flipping through the pages. The front of the book alongside many pages inside are written in a completely foreign script which not even Quirrel, in all his research and knowledge, has ever seen before.

Honestly- he isn't surprised. Brodie can be trusted and is an honest and moral bug, but he is quite mysterious.

"It's a recipe book I made. Sorry 'bout some of the pages not being in a readable language 'n all, and some o' the spelling's probably off. But, eh, other than that it should be okay. Try some o' these out, will ya?"

"...Sure? Well, I should get going. So, uh, see ya some other time then, Brodie." Quirrel says, stashing the book inside his shell for protection against the rain, picking up his bottle of beer, and heading for the door.

"Take care, ol' chap. If ya ever need me, I'll always be here. Unless I'm not."

As Quirrel walked back through the empty, raining streets, the book hidden under his shell, an odd feeling overcame him.

It was... unusual. He'd usually come out of his usual chat angry at _something-_ a stupid or cocky co-worker, a bad day at work, or even the mundane like the rain or neighbours.

But this time... it was not anger.

It wasn't exactly happiness- yet not exactly sadness. It was a bit of a mystical feeling- he couldn't put his finger on it. It was... a bit like a knot was finally untied.

_Whatever; I'm drunk. A good nap and it'll be like it never happened._

* * *

Quirrel looks out the window.

It's still dim outside. All is fine.

_Oh wait, no it isn't. 'Cause if it were fine, I'd be preparing myself some quick breakfast and get ready to go to work._

Quirrel's day has instantly been dampened by Quirrel.

Ghost is still asleep.

Stumbling outside his bedroom, he goes to the kitchen to prepare his breakfast.

"What should I make..." Quirrel thinks to himself, aloud.

_Well, I'll just get the usual. Lukewarm black coffee, maybe some toast with butter..._

_No, no, I should probably stretch this out as long as possible because I have absolutely nothing to do for the rest of the day and if I don't spend my time slowly I'll just end up extremely bored._

_How can I spend more time making lukewarm black coffee and a toast with butter?_

__Two_ toasts with butter. Perfect._

Quirrel's eyes drifted to the book he had tossed onto the sofa yesterday night.

Well, okay, technically it was today, but practically, you should just shut the hell up.

Opening the book up to the second page, there's a table of contents, with the foreign script hand written first and Hallownestian scribbled beside the foreign script as what seemed to be an afterthought.

_Btl/fag}m <--brecfist....... page 3 --> /jz( k_

_*g{zo <--lanche......... page 30--> /jz( k&_

_f,]rpg <--dinre.......... page 60--> /jz( v&_

_{*a%qb{e <--diserts...... page 100--> /jz( r&&_

Ignoring the spelling mistakes, as egregious as it might be, Quirrel flipped to the next page. He knew very well that Brodie was terrible at spelling; especially when he had first met him.

_]e]tf/!! <-- pankaces!_

...There's even an exclamation mark.

Despite the terrible spelling, the actual recipes seem quite good.

_I've got just about nothing else to do. Sooooo.... might as well?_

Pulling out the cooking equipment his mom gave him but never used. Quirrel rolled up his metaphorical sleeves and got to work.

"Let's do this!"

* * *

Quirrel sat at the table, his face in his hands, inconsolable.

Ghost continues eating as if nothing is wrong.

_It's black... It's almost literal ash..._

Ghost does not care, evidently. They continue to cut into their 'pancakes', each stroke of the knife sounding like a hand saw attempting to cut through stone.

"Ghost, please... It's not fit for consumption for anything..." Quirrel groans.

Ghost shoves another fat serving of Quirrel's failure into their eye, in clear defiance of Quirrel's plea.

"Please, Ghost..." He begs once more.

Ghost merely turns towards Quirrel and shakily gives him a thumbs-up.

Even Quirrel can see that Ghost is lying.

"I can see you don't like it, why are you eating it?" He asks, a hint of anger in his voice.

Caught off guard, like their great secret has been revealed, they froze for a second in surprise before vigourously shaking their head in denial.

Quirrel grimaced, standing up and taking Ghost's plate and the rest of the 'pancakes'.

"I'm going to go throw this out, I'll be right back..." His voice carried with it an atmosphere of failure and sadness.

* * *

_Ding Ding!_

The bell attached to the door rang out.

"Hmm? Sorry; store's closed." Brodie called out.

"It's just me." Quirrel tiredly responded, bottle of beer and cup in hand.

"Ah, suit yourself then. You're back awfully early, though. It's been a day."

"What can I say?" Quirrel answered, dropping onto the bar stool in front of the counter.

"Did something happen? Ya don't seem so chipper this night."

"Well, I tried to make some pancakes..."

"What happened?"

"I burnt them."

"Well that's okay, nobody's born a master cook, yeah? Set them alight or defenestrate it, forget about it, then try again!"

"Yeah, but Ghost just ate it up and pretended like there wasn't an issue with it."

"Ghost?"

"Have I not told you their name? That's the name I gave my vessel."

"Heh. You gave your vessel a name? Softie, aintcha?" Brodie snickered, a smug smile over his face.

"Oh, go shove yourself off a cliff, comedy genius."

"Come over here and do it yourself, coward."

The two shared a little laugh at the joke, before Quirrel began talking again.

"Yeah, but like I was saying earlier, Ghost was eating it even though I told them they shouldn't."

"Eh? You told them that they shouldn't eat it, and they kept on going 'bout their day?"

"Yeah, I can only assume they were trying to protect my feelings or something, 'cause they tried to act as if everything was okay... Well, I guess maybe it might've worked if it was half-decent, but literal ash..."

Brodie laughed at the thought of a vessel consuming raw ash. "That's good and all, but I..."

Brodie paused.

"You what?"

"You _do_ know vessels aren't supposed to do something like that, right?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well, they're supposed to always follow commands from their master, right?"

"Yeah? I don't see how that's relevant."

"You told them to stop eating... and they kept eating?"

Quirrel sat there, the gears in his head turning.

"And, on top of that, they pretended that it was good? ...Which would mean that they're trying to protect your feelings, which means they _care_ about your feelings?"

"...No... That can't be possible. The vessels are supposed to be _empty._"

"Well yeah, but-"

"I was involved in making the vessels empty- I should know. That can't be true. I did all the calculations, you know. It was not like you had to be _very_ specific on this and that to make sure the vessels would be unfeeling- you'd have to _completely_ screw up the process of making them, to the point that all the vessels would be able to have emotions. And if they were, then the infection would've beaten the Hollow Knight and we'd all be screwed. It's impossible."

"Huh... Really? Then maybe I'm reading too much into it."

"Yeah, you probably are."

Silence came over the restaurant once more.

"Well, that was kinda heavy. So, what else you wanna talk about?" Brodie asked, not wanting an uncomfortable silence.

"Heh, wanna hear a stupid story from the vessel project when I was working on it? Right, so hear me out- I got chewed out by the Teacher in front of the Pale King himself..."

The two continued off into the night, the pitter patter of the rain outside the only sound to fill the dark night.

Throughout all of Hallownest, everybody is going about their lives.

Quirrel and Brodie are now having a discussion about toast sandwiches.

Ghost has finished a second side of the rubix cube.

Hornet is at home, practicing her battle stance.

Monomon is trying to defuse a debate in the office whether water is wet.

An old bug on the surface is observing the night sky.

A young bug has begun her job at the Crystal Peak.

The Hollow Knight is still carrying out their job.

All is fine. All is well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 20/07/06

**Author's Note:**

> World plot inspired by the Grimm Troupe!Ghost series


End file.
